A/n: what if Christine listened to the Opera Ghost about Don Juan Triumphant and went back to him?

Rating: I'll go with PG... i'm pretty sure it's there... maybe a high PG, but still PG

Christine POV

Hearing those words, repeating in my head: "As for Miss Christine Daae no doubt she'll do her best—it's true her voice is good. She knows, though, should she wish to excel she has much still learn, if pride will let her return to me, her teacher…"

The words haunt me now. Giry's voice, but his words, sending a chill down my spine.

He goes and destroys a piece of the opera house, he gets upset and ruins the masquerade, and now he wants me to forgive him and return to his domain, which he practically threw me out of last time? How dare he try and use my emotions against me!

And yet, if I do not obey the consequences could be twice as bad. He might not fall into the trap.

Yet, do I really want him captured? He's my angel, even if he is a killer. Is it smart to trust a killer?

My mind is playing tricks on me, more than he is, making me think one thing and then another. I simply don't know what to do.

I look to the mirror, which once revealed to me his darkest secret. Or at least what I think is his darkest secret.

He is a killer, but he will not harm me.

"Angel, are you here?" my voice betrays me as it stays calm and collected.

"Yes," a dark, angered voice resounding around the room.

"I have returned to you!" with my voice the mirror opens, revealing a creature shrouded in black clothing, all of him a shadow, except the white mask on his face, which seems to glow in the darkness. I know it's him, and I can tell he's angry with me.

Yet he extends his hand, cautiously in my direction, as if I would run away if he moved any faster. I slowly reach my hand out and place it in his.

I feel him grip my wrist hard, but not painfully. He is angered, but he still loves me.

He roughly, but not forcefully, leads me down, once again, to the pit that he lives in, the little hole beneath the ground that he made into a musical paradise.

As we descend we are silent, until we reach the other side of the lake. There I sigh and slowly turn to him, watching as his burning eyes meet mine.

"What have I done to anger my Angel of Music?" my voice edges with unmistakable fear.

"Don't pretend you don't know!" he growls viciously.

"Raoul," an answer more than a question.

"Yes, your precious lover, the Vicomte," he answers with mockery.

"Then you know…" my voice trails.

"Of your engagement? Of course!" he yells hysterically.

I walk toward him, "Please…"

Before I can finish he turns away from me on his heals. When he speaks his voice is laced with sadness, "You don't need to lie or to plead, I know I'm a monster that does not deserve your love."

I place my hand on his shoulder, trying to get him to turn around, but he resists.

"My angel, look at me," he turns and I see his eyes are pouring over with tears. My angel weeps.

"Never could my angel be a monster to me," with this I move up to him and kiss him on the lips, drawing it out as long as he will allow.

Every thought throughout the kiss tells me to stop, but my heart keeps telling me to go.

I slowly, reluctantly, break the kiss, and look into his eyes. His eyes are filled with tears, and before he can stop it, one strays down to his cheek under the mask.

Before I can think I swiftly remove the mask and wipe the tear from his face, seeing nothing more than the sadness of his soul.

I then prepare my self for the onslaught of yelling, and insults about himself, but instead something completely different happens. When I look at him, his eyes are now filled, and the rest of his tears let loose, falling down in a steady stream along the side of his face. I embrace him and he cries on my shoulder, seeming now as harmless as a child that has fallen down and only wants his mother's help does.

"Christine," he whispers, almost pleading with me to do something more, to be a person that I know I can not be.

"My angel," I hold him until his sobbing ceases. I then lean him back slightly and wipe away the remaining tears, and then I kiss him, longer and harder, and this time he kisses back.

He breaks us apart this time and we both realize that he has wrapped his arms around my waist.

"We need to practice, for your part in the opera I mean," I smile at his words.

Keeping his arms around my waist he softly guides me to a seat near the organ and then takes out some music and prepares to play.

He starts the score for "The Point of No Return" and I place a hand on his shoulder.

"Not that song," I whisper.

"Then which?" I smile at him.

I start singing our song, without any music, "In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came. That voice which calls to me, and speaks my name. And do I dream again? For now I find the Phantom of the Opera is here—inside my mind."

I look at him, knowing that he is the next to sing, knowing his lines by heart, waiting for him to continue the song, but instead he just stares at me.

"What's wrong," I tilt my head at him, and reach out, touching his cheek lightly. I feel my hand get wet as his tears fall silently down.

I lean over, kissing away the tears, and he smiles at me.

"Aren't I here to sing?" I smile slyly back.

He nods, "Let's try something from Don Juan this time."

He straightens up, "Ready?"

I nod. The score starts and he begins to sing, his voice hypnotic, "Past the point of no return - no backward glances: the games we've played till now are at an end. Past all thought of "if" or "when" - no use resisting: abandon thought, and let the dream descend. What raging fire shall flood the soul? What rich desire unlocks its door? What sweet seduction lies before us? Past the point of no return, the final threshold - what warm, unspoken secrets will we learn? Beyond the point of no return…"

I continue with my part, but right from the start I can tell that I'm not doing my best, but like in a performance I keep going, "You have brought me to that moment where words run dry, to that moment where speech disappears into silence, silence. I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why. In my mind, I've already imagined our bodies entwining defenseless and silent - and now I am here with you: no second thoughts, I've decided, decided. Past the point of no return - no going back now: our passion-play has now, at last, begun. Past all thought of right or wrong - one final question: how long should we two wait, before we're one? When will the blood begin to race the sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames, at last, consume us?"
He stops playing and looks at me, "Christine, you really have to work for this! That was okay, but I know you can do better, I've heard you do better. This part I wrote for you alone, I wrote it to challenge you, to force you to work harder than ever, but I know you can do it. Put yourself in the character, loose yourself in the character and just sing."

I nod.

We practice a few more times when he stops suddenly.

"What—" he puts his hand up to hush me, then turns around slowly to look at the gates, where we both notice Madame Giry standing staring at us.

"Monsieur, I hope I am not interrupting anything too important, but I'm afraid that the managers will have a heart attack in a few moments if they do not find our young Christine here," Giry addresses the Phantom.

He shakes his head and replies, "Nothing too important, though it would make no difference to me if they had a heart attack or not. I must say that I preferred the last manager to these numbskulls."

Giry laughs a little and the gates are raised by the Phantom. She walks over to the edge of the lake, to the boat, which the Phantom and I used to get here, and waits.

My angel helps me from my seat and we walk together to the boat, where he helps me get in. Then he helps Madame Giry, and finally enters himself.

On the way to the other side of the lake the only sound is that of the water.

When we reach the other side Madame Giry and I get out, but he stops me quickly with his voice, "Remember what you have learned."

"I promise I will," with that he turns around and goes back to his lonely home.

Madame Giry and I quickly get back into my room, where she tells me to stay. She leaves and moments later Raoul knocks on the door and enters.

"My love, Christine, where have you been?" he embraces me and I can feel him shaking.

"Returning to my teacher," he leans back and looks at me.

"Christine, why?" he seems more like a child than the Phantom had just a short time ago.

"Because, sometimes our hearts play tricks on us, making us think that we can love something that can never be loved, only desired," with this I kiss him, and he seems to understand.

I only wish that I knew who is the one that I love, and who is the one that I desire.

A/N: please review!